“Twelve points,” Dmitry whispered musingly. “So Pierrot was right then. That son of a bitch!”
I stared at him. Seeing my confusion, Dmitry hurried to explain,
“Remember the morning you came to see me? An hour earlier we'd held a board meeting. The CEO had a field day ripping the programmers apart, namely Pierrot. That's Andrew Petrov, but everybody calls him Pierrot. Most heads of terminals took part in the discussion. We have this virtual conference room, you know—it's very convenient. It was Pierrot who dealt with race development. He's a bit of a nutcase. All programmers are.”
He shuddered. “Basically, once the meeting was over, Pierrot laid his resignation on the CEO's desk and walked out, just like that. Didn't say a word to anyone. Packed his stuff and left.”
“Let me guess. The Ennan was his work, wasn't it?”
Dmitry nodded. “Exactly. You might call it his swan song. He introduced it just as you connected to the test module. You weren't the only one who chose it. A hundred and twenty-five players also did so, but then they all reconsidered. You were the first one. You found the Ennan through a number of backdoors thus making it visible in the Search. The developers reacted just in time and removed the Ennan from the game.”
“Why did the others reconsider?”
“The developers applied a bit of pressure telling them this was a glitchy defective race. They said they couldn't be held responsible for any malfunctions. They sugar-coated it of course by throwing a few bonuses into the swap—nothing ground-breaking but enough to make one's life considerably easier at level zero. The players got the message—especially because you were the only one who'd already managed to try this race out. Actually, I have the authority to offer you the same. If you refuse, the responsibility is entirely yours. No one knows what this nutty programmer had in mind when he was writing it. Or what kind of grass he smoked. On one hand, such an impressive raise in skill is awesome. But what's gonna happen to you next? What if you level your char up only to discover he comes with a nice little glitch no one knows about? He offered you this char on a silver platter but what if the platter has strings attached? Plus you'll be constantly monitored by the admins. I don't think your activity can damage the game's economy—you're only a grain of sand in this ocean. But hundreds and thousands of you—that's a totally different ball game. So what do you say?”
“Oh,” I said. “I've already invested so much into him. It would be a shame.”
“As you wish. The admins can't force you.”
“Does that mean it's up to me whether I want to abandon the char or not?”
Dmitry nodded. “It does. Once we’ve removed the race, the danger of any potential glitch will be neutralized. You're the only one left. They don't give a shit what you decide. They have much bigger fish to fry. They think in hundreds of million dollars. They're not interested in one particular character with a slightly elevated chance of skill raising. You, pottering away in your measly mine somewhere in the outskirts of the game? Please. All they'll do they'll assign a bot to tail you to make sure you they keep tabs on you. Especially because they're more than sure that Pierrot has some sick surprise in store for you that would make you crawl back to them on your knees. It's not the first time this has happened, you know. The game keeps improving. True, there're some dedicated beta-testing servers but you can't provide for every eventuality. There's always something nasty coming to light, all the time. Talk about trial and error! The situation in your favorite Europe is no better. So basically, it's up to you.”
That got me thinking. No, I didn't for one second want to abandon my char. That little was clear. I'd invested too much heart and effort into him already. No. I had other things to consider.
Dmitry seemed to have second-guessed my plans. “You aren't going to change char, are you?”
I shook my head.
“Then I have some advice for you. Keep your head down. Pretend you're not even there. It'll only take a while. It's a good thing you keep your stats private. Most newbs do. This way you can stay off their radars. Otherwise... they'll be after you. Your gear is decent. Excellent idea with the runes, by the way.”
“The power of joint thinking,” I shakily raised an authoritative finger. “We thought it up together: Rrhorgus the vendor and myself.”
“I see,” Dmitry nodded. “Now, the short-term goal: you'll have to stay in bed for a few days, I'm afraid. You need some treatment. If you play at all, it must be in Economy Mode. Don't worry about the money. I've just sent you anther three grand. Lie still, you! I know you appreciate it. Down, I say! We’ll settle our accounts later. Your Shantarsky's just called. He's asking you not to exert yourself on the work front anymore. I told him you overdid it a little. It happens all the time. So he's quite happy now. He's expecting you back to work tomorrow morning.”
“How nice of him,” I forced a sarcastic grin. “I haven't seen him in the game yet, by the way.”
“What do you want him to do in Leuton? It's the asshole of the world. Our Lord Shantar lives in Mellenville, the great capital of Mirror World. He has about half a dozen such properties all around the game. The Gold Guild is a very influential clan.”
“Why did I arrive at Leuton on my first day, then?”
“Because that's the cluster associated with our terminal.”
“I see.”
The phone rang. My heart clenched: it was Sveta calling.
“Right, I'll leave you to it,” Dmitry handed me the phone. “We'll talk later. I don't want to see you anywhere near the capsule, understood?”
“Which capsule? Can't you see I can't move?” I managed a smile as I took the phone and pressed the button. “Hi babe, you okay?”
Quietly Dmitry left the room and closed the door tactfully behind himself.
My girls and I talked for a good three hours. Sveta was crying, desperate to join me, but I knew that as she spoke, her hand lay on our little Christina's chest.
Chapter Eleven
I'd been lazing around in the virtual center's hospital for three days now. My body was gradually recovering from the mining marathon. According to some forum discussions, that's how people called these things. Which meant I wasn't the only wussy Grinder around.
I spent some time reading the comments. Apparently, my exploits would need a two-week recovery period. But if someone wanted to go back to work, no one could stop him. All I had to do was sign a disclaimer and I could head back to the mine.
A special clause in the contract specified that the hospital treatment was free. No wonder I received daily phone calls from the bank asking after my health! I couldn't help smiling. I'd earned all of twenty-five dollars but I'd already cost my employers hundreds. Some employee! Who would want me?
I had a funny feeling that once my two-week contract with Lord Shantar expired, he'd show me the door. I was nothing but a headache for them. So the next morning I was going back—and that was non-negotiable.
“Hey, dude,” a hoarse two-packs-a-day male voice disrupted my musings.
I was lucky with my hospital roommate, wasn't I? Skinny, about five foot eight, with a crew cut, he was stooping, his narrow shoulders shaking in constant bouts of coughing. He must have had TB or something. Probably caught it in some seedy jailhouse. He called everyone “dude“. The hospital staff didn't give a damn. They reminded me of in-game Grinders: same emotionless smiles, all their movements well-calculated, their every action well-rehearsed. They probably earned a nice buck here—excellent working conditions, security at the gate, hefty advance payments and regular wages. Which probably allowed them to suffer idiots like this Vova quite gladly, just by ignoring him.
“Vova, what is it?” I asked.
“Got a smoke?”
“I told you I didn't.”
“Ah, sorry dude.”
They'd brought him in last night, bandaged all over like some Egyptian mummy. According to him, he'd been victim of a rockslide while mining. His injured char was out of action for a week an
d the man himself was sent to the hospital ASAP. His whole body was black and blue—and his head too had apparently taken a beating.
The same evening, a doctor had come to see him. He'd explained to Vova that he might suffer memory lapses for a while. In return, the doctor was called dude, after which he bid a hasty goodbye.
Once back in the game, I'd have to be doubly careful. My roommate was living proof of that.
I didn't waste time. I attacked the new information like a hungry cat attacks a bowlful of minced steak. I tried to find out something about the Ennans, anything at all. Nothing. Even the dialogue I'd seen a couple of days ago had disappeared from the search engine. The admins were cleaning up after themselves.
I checked the Dead Clan site. This was a meeting place for all the races already removed from the game—and all the players who'd been too happy with their stats to promptly delete their unwanted chars.
Talk about a motley crew. They had all sorts: red-skinned four-armed Narchs, hairy Tarks, small Grolls and mysterious Ralds. They shared useful links as well as their own experiences, and posted ads in search of compatible weapons, gear and rare elixirs.
Vova tried to bum a smoke off me at least five more times, then began snoring peacefully. Poor wretch. He probably had a family. His wife and children must have been worried out of their minds. I'd have to ask him about them when he woke up.
In the meantime, I found some info on level-one stones. They were: amethyst, obsidian, sapphire and malachite. I checked their prices: excellent. The former three cost almost three times more apiece than marble or granite. Malachite was cheaper but the demand for it was higher because almost thirty percent of all crafters needed it. Virtually all of it was used in crafting—for instance, for the making of the runes like I'd seen earlier. In the context of Mirror World, malachite was apparently a much-sought after resource.
Still, it wasn't good enough for me. I had my sights set on sapphire. The lightest and the most expensive of them all. Mining sapphire could easily give me six hundred bucks a week after taxes. And that was a totally different ball game.
For someone it might have been good enough. No pressure: with a bit of work you could pay off your credit and take regular days off to be with your family. But this didn't apply to me. I had both the Germans and the Japanese on my case, about to procure new payments.
I located a few maps of Shantar's estate. I wasn't going to repeat my first-day error. I had no right to make mistakes anymore. My third day in the Glasshouse was going to pay.
Once I'd studied the map, my enthusiasm all but disappeared. There was neither turquoise nor aquamarine in Shantar. It had seven marble mines, four granite ones and the sole agate mine I'd already discovered. My search for either sapphire, amethyst or obsidian returned zero results. That left me with malachite. Shantar had just two mines of this: the heaviest and the cheapest of all four. Just my flippin' luck.
A quick estimate showed that this way I could earn five hundred gold a week at best: the same as Greg was making on an hour wage. This was a Catch 22 situation: my plan was admittedly good but it only worked with the lightest and most expensive of resources.
Had Sveta heard it, she'd have nodded her understanding. I did have this flaw: I always considered the best-case scenarios. Should I really switch to an hourly wage to level up a little, then go back to piecework? The problem was, no one in Shantar mined malachite on an industrial scale. In fact, no one mined it, period. Everyone had their hands full with marble and granite. No one was interested in busting their respective asses. Was I the only one who wanted too much too quickly?
Right, let's see what else Shantar's estate had to offer. Wait a minute... wow! Wasn't I the lucky one! Emerald fields! The most expensive level-two mineral in Mirror World! Very light and always in high demand. I could easily make fifteen hundred dollars a week mining it. There was one little thing left to do: I had to make Seasoned Digger first and not pop my clogs in the process. And yes, I had to keep a low profile as Dmitry had told me.
That was it, then. Tomorrow I was going back. Enough lazing about.
Vova mumbled something in his sleep, as if in agreement.
* * *
“Are you sure?” Dmitry asked politely.
“I am. I don't have much time left.”
“Promise me you aren't gonna kill yourself.”
I pressed a clenched fist to my chest and eased my body into the gelatinous goo.
“Good luck.”
Log in.
* * *
The doors of the Digger's Store opened without a sound. Hearing my footsteps, Rrhorgus emerged from the storeroom. He beamed on seeing me.
“Howdy, Olgerd! Where've you been?” he asked, wiping his hands on a rag.
“Well, you know,” I faltered. “I suppose I bit off more than I could chew. Spent the last week in hospital.”
He looked upset. “Was it so bad?”
“I set the bot to Speed Mode.”
He shook his head. “Why didn't you set it to Jump Off a Cliff mode? Same effect, only quicker.”
I waved his sarcasm away. “Never mind. I'll be more careful this time. I've only popped in to say hello and buy a few more elixirs. You okay?”
He sighed. “Boring. No custom worth mentioning. I kill time by polishing this crap. How many elixirs do you want?”
“Four. To fill up my belt.”
He nodded. “I can see they're not damaged yet: neither the belt nor the bag. Don't forget they're going to take all the damage now. Seeing as they're level zero and all.”
“Not a scratch on them yet, touch wood. Listen, I meant to ask you...”
He smiled. “Go ahead. I think I know what it's about.”
I grinned back. “What is it about, then?”
“You're gonna ask me if I have anything else like those Clay Runes.”
“Exactly. You know that's the only way for us to raise characteristics, by using gear and runes. So I just thought you might have something for me.”
He shrugged guiltily. “You won't believe me but after you left, I checked the whole place. I've got all sorts of junk, I told you.”
“You did. I just don't understand how you managed to keep all the items. Didn't the admins remove them one by one?”
“Sure. But they removed them from the listings. And those that vendors already had in stock stayed in the game. You understand? Later they sent us a half-assed order to destroy them. But I didn't have the heart. That's how you got the runes.”
I chuckled. “I've been lucky to meet you, then.”
He grinned back.
'How much of that junk do you have, actually?” I asked. “I think I have an idea.”
“About five hundred items,” he grunted, pleased with himself. “What kind of idea? Tell me!”
“Five hundred? Wow!” I couldn't conceal my surprise. “Not bad at all.”
“What do you think? Come on, spit it out!”
“I will. I think it might be interesting—for you mainly. You never know, it might prove quite lucrative.”
He laughed. “I can see you're already going to hassle me for a bargain! Come on, say it. I won't leave you out, I promise. You can trust me.”
I chuckled. I couldn't haggle to save my life. It just wasn't my thing. I was too timid. “What do you know about dead races?”
“You mean guys like you?”
I nodded.
“Well,” he began, “I know that they exist. We actually call them “discarded races“. That's all I know. I've never really been interested in them. I know it might sound weird. In all my time in the game, we've only had three chars like that in our cluster, you included. No idea what happened to the other two. I know they're not here anymore. Haven't been for a long while—in the in-game time, I mean. Terminal #17 mainly sends us warriors as well as dwarves and gnomes. That's the way the cookie crumbles. You really think someone needs any of this junk? Please.”
“Okay then,” I decided to try a different a
pproach. “Question: do you happen to have any Rocky Tail elixirs?”
That got the attention of this rarity connoisseur. “I do. Three of them. It was a set of three. Sort of.”
“How much are they?”
His eyes glinted. “Seventy gold each.”
I ventured a dramatic pause, just to prolong his agony. “I've been at the Dead Clan forum,” I finally said, “They offered three hundred gold for one Rocky Tail.”
He gasped.
Someone might say it wasn't very clever of me leaking important information just like that. They might be right, too. I should have probably made a list of the costliest artifacts, then visit Rrhorgus and buy them all wholesale, then sell them on to the Dead Clan for a nice bit of profit. The vendor wouldn't have very easily refused me: the shop wasn't his property, after all. He was just a Grinder like myself.
Sorry, but that was something I couldn't do. It just didn't feel right. Besides, it looked as if I might be stuck here for a while. And you never know when I might need a friend or at least an ally.
The vendor seemed zoned out. He must have been busy leafing through the inventory of his “treasures“.
“Right, I'm off then,” I said. “Here's the link to the forum. I suggest you check it out once you come round.”
He nodded absent-mindedly. I smiled at his salt-pillar countenance, said my goodbyes and walked out of the shop. Time to get back to work.
As I followed the route I'd mapped out earlier, I couldn't help wondering what had stopped Rrhorgus from looking into it himself. Vendors were an entrepreneurial bunch, normally. How strange.
The mine welcomed me by its already-familiar desolation. I said hello to the terminal and hurried inside. As I walked, I tweaked the bot's settings on Dmitry's suggestion, changing the mode to Economy which only needed one elixir. That would bring me around eighteen hundred stones a day, give or take a few. Still exhausting, but I could do it. I could always increase pressure afterwards, depending on my condition.
Project Daily Grind (Mirror World Book #1) Page 9